


falling

by olio



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords
Genre: Atris is a mess, F/F, Unresolved Tension, and the Exile is a lot more oblivious than she gives her credit for, emotional sexual you name it, so many unresolved feelings, will they ever be resolved? maybe! but not by me!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-08 20:04:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15937328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olio/pseuds/olio
Summary: Atris falls, but the Exile is there to catch her.





	falling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weakinteraction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/gifts).



i.

Atris peeked over the edge of her datapad, doing her best to feign interest in the words of some long dead Jedi Master while surreptitiously watching _her._ The new girl.

Meetra Surik had only shown up the Jedi Enclave two months ago, but that was more than enough time for Atris to decide she hated her. She was too loud, too brash, too _physical,_ and not nearly respectful enough of Jedi tradition. So of course Atris watched her. One had to know the competition, after all. She was absolutely _not_ watching the way Meetra moved so fluidly through her saber forms despite how new she was to a lightsaber, or the way her intense focus melted into a smile when she finished a set, or—

Atris shook her head and determinedly went back to her datapad. She would _not_ let herself become attached to someone so obviously unsuitable.

(Even then, she knew she was lying to herself.)

 

ii.

“You can’t follow Revan! She’s insane!” Atris slammed a palm down on the library table for emphasis. “You’ll just go and get yourself killed in a war no Jedi should be involved in!”

 _You’ll get yourself killed, and where will that leave me?_ she wanted to add, but did not.

Meetra closed her eyes and drew a long breath. “I can’t just sit by and do _nothing_ while the Mandalorians wreak havoc across the galaxy,” she finally said. Meetra stood before Atris, but her somber expression was such a departure from her usual boisterous self that it felt as if she had already left.

“It’s Revan, isn’t it? You’re doing this because of her.” Of course it was Revan. Of course Meetra would follow

“Yes, it was Revan’s idea, but more than that, it’s the _right_ thing to do.” She placed her hand over Atris’, and Atris struggled not to flinch. Or, worse, melt at Meetra’s feet, begging her not to leave. “Come with me. We can fight together, help the galaxy together.”

But Atris couldn’t. She pulled her hand back, regretting the loss of Meetra’s skin on hers the moment they separated, but knowing if she let the contact continue she would only weaken, only follow along in Meetra’s wake as she so desperately wanted to do. But she refused to be helpless. She refused to let Meetra influence her in this, no matter how she might feel about her. Meetra clearly cared more for Revan, and Atris could accept that.

(She could. Really. And perhaps if she kept telling herself that, it would come true.)

“The Jedi Council said we were not to get involved. This isn’t our fight. The galaxy needs to sort itself out without constant Jedi interference! Fighting unprovoked war is the path to the dark side.”

Atris could _see_ Meetra withdraw with every word. “Very well. I’ll see you again once this war is finished, I suppose.”

“If you survive.”

“If I survive.” Meetra offered one last halfhearted smile, but Atris could feel their friendship unraveling, and she _ached_ with its loss, even as Meetra still stood before her. “Goodbye, Atris.”

“Goodbye.” And as Meetra left the room, Atris allowed herself one last lingering glance, knowing it would be a very long time before they saw one another again. If ever.

 

iii.

Atris could barely contain her fury as she watched Meetra standing before the Council. How _could_ she have done this? Any of this? She’d thought Meetra was better than this. She thought she’d known Meetra, but it seemed she never had at all. And yet she’d still gone to war, to fight alongside _Revan,_ and look where that had landed them. Sith Lord and acolyte. It was the biggest betrayal of all their years of Jedi teachings they could manage, and it made Atris physically ill to contemplate.

Meetra, _her_ Meetra (no, never hers, not really), fallen to the dark side? Yet it had happened, and the consequences were in front of her now. Meetra stood before the council, perhaps admitting to her crimes but everything about her stance crying defiance. And the Force! It was almost painful to be near her, a void where the Force _should_ be and yet wasn’t. A wound, bleeding out over all her surroundings. Meetra, however, seemed blithely unaware. Atris supposed being cut off from the Force meant she could no longer even tell there was anything to be concerned about.

So Atris took her lightsaber. It wasn’t as if Meetra would be able to use it properly without the Force. Her lightsaber, so quintessential a part of being a Jedi, no longer belonged to this new Meetra. It was a relic of the light she had abandoned, and Atris intended to keep it that way, away from the corruption of the dark side.

(And Atris could admit, if only to herself, that she wanted to keep a piece of Meetra close. That she wanted to remember the Meetra who _was,_ rather than the Meetra she had become. Meetra might be lost, but once she had been the best of them, and Atris hated her as much as she loved her for it.)

 

iv.

Atris panted, staring up past the lightsaber at her throat into the face of her old – what were they, even? Friends? Perhaps once, but so long ago. Friendship was such a fragile bond, easily frayed by opposing ideologies and misunderstandings. Perhaps they could have been lovers, if Atris had been braver, if Revan hadn’t been there. So many ifs. But despite Atris’ dreams it had never happened, much as Atris watched her, remaining ever in her shadow, always reaching for her but never arriving. Adversaries? She supposed they were, now, yet still it seemed so very one-sided, Meetra still ahead of her, as always, while Atris could do nothing but trail after, a small blip in Meetra’s blazing wake. Meetra had been her star, and her betrayal had cast Atris adrift, rudderless and alone.

And yet… After everything, here they were.  Atris lay prostrate before Meetra, defeated, which some part of her felt was where she truly belonged. Meetra’s lightsaber (a new one, once again shining and bright, despite the corruption Atris _knew_ surrounded her) hovered inches from ending her life, close enough that Atris could feel the heat radiating from its blade, close enough that the sweat trickling down her face turned to steam. Meetra’s eyes were hard, filled with neither the love that Atris craved, nor even the passion of hatred that Atris could, at least, take and wrap around herself in a pale imitation of affection. And still Atris wanted her. Still _loved_ her. Hated her too, but for all that Meetra had done, for all that Meetra had betrayed everything Atris believed in, Atris couldn’t escape the feelings that her traitorous heart kept dormant until Meetra was once again standing before her.

Atris knew it was hopeless, of course. Once they had touched the dark side, there was no return. Meetra’s fall had been so long ago, and Atris knew hers was the inevitable result.

Which made Meetra’s next words all the more unexpected.

“Come with me,” Meetra said. She deactivated her lightsaber and held out a hand. Atris stayed silent but got to her knees, not willing to trust this declaration of peace as she had been unwilling to trust Meetra’s words before. Meetra merely stayed with hand outstretched, patient – flaunting her victory? Or truly offering Atris – what? What _was_ she offering?

“I will not be a prisoner,” Atris finally bit out. “I will not be humiliated. I’d rather die here.” But she grasped Meetra’s hand and allowed herself to be pulled up, regardless.

Then Meetra smiled. A tentative smile, sad, or tired, but nonetheless a smile. For _her._ And Atris couldn’t help the giddy thump of her heart at the warmth of Meetra’s palm against hers, and at the smile, however slight, that was all hers.

“I don’t want you as a prisoner. I want us to be friends again.” _Friends._ That was all it took. Atris knew she was lost, but in losing herself she felt so very light, buoyed by Meetra’s regard. All this time, she’d held this bitter grudge against Meetra, nursing her anger at Meetra’s betrayal, her fall to the dark side, and what had it gotten her? Nothing but pain and misery and an aching loss that gnawed at her day and night. Perhaps they were both light now. Perhaps both dark. And perhaps it didn’t matter, and there truly were more shades of grey than she had been willing to admit to before. Atris couldn’t bring herself to care, much less feel bothered by the intricacies of light and dark. She was here, and so was Meetra, and for the moment, that was enough.

“Come with me,” Meetra said again.

And this time, Atris followed.


End file.
